


No Promises

by CynicalMistrust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark-of-Cain-influenced sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalMistrust/pseuds/CynicalMistrust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas confronts Dean about the Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Promises

Dean stepped into his room in the bunker and stopped beside his bed. He could hear Cas speaking with Sam down the hall, the conversation carrying despite the low pitch of their voices.

               "How is he?" It was starting to be a familiar question, especially from Cas. The response, however, was new.

               "Maybe you should ask him."

               _Really, Sam?_ Dean stifled a sigh as he heard Cas' familiar footsteps drawing closer and glanced up as the angel stopped in his doorway. He dropped his bag onto his bed, trying to decide if he was up for one of their conversations. They were long overdue for one, after all.

               "Dean."

               Strange how Cas always held power over him, even with a single word that always seemed to carry so much more unsaid. "What is it, Cas?" He could feel the angel's eyes on him and finally looked up to meet them, raising an eyebrow as silence fell.

               Cas hovered in the doorway with that expression Dean found infuriating and sensual at the same time. "May I come in?" The fact Cas was going to wait for permission made him realize Cas had never actually been in his room before. No one had, at least not outside of life or death situations. As a rule, no one usually entered; even Sam stayed near the door most of the time.

               It was an unspoken kind of thing. This was the first time he'd ever called anyplace home outside of the Impala. He was protective of it, even now. Perhaps too protective, if those he cared about most felt like they were imposing by entering.

               "Sure. Anytime, " Dean replied, hefting up his pack and dropping it to the floor instead. He sat on the edge, crossing his left leg in front of him with the right braced on the floor, watching as Cas stepped inside the room.

               The angel gravitated to the desk and sat on top of it, grasping the side. "You're getting worse."

               Dean snorted quietly. "Right to the point, I see." He glanced to the open door, resting his right hand on his knee. "Is that all you came to talk about?"

               Cas tilted his head, but didn't say anything more than, "Dean."

               He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he found he was annoyed. Part of him knew it was the Mark, and the other, tinier part of him knew he should fight it. Because it was Cas. He stood and moved to the door, hesitating a moment before closing it and resting his head against it. Some things he couldn't bring himself to say within earshot of Sammy. Not that Cas was any easier, but... it was a week for confessions apparently.

               He couldn't deny it was true, but he'd thought he was putting on a good show. Or had been. Every day seemed a bit more difficult to get through, more difficult to care. Every hour he could feel the Mark sinking deeper into him, calling him back into its embrace where it was... painless and easy. World-weary was an understatement for how he felt, but it would suffice.

               He heard Cas move and could feel the angel standing behind him, letting his hand fall away from the doorknob as he turned. A year ago he may have made a comment about personal spaces, but things had changed so much between them it didn't matter how close they stood. There were only a handful of people he'd allow this close to him without gutting them.

               Only one who made him want to experience things for the first time.

               The way Cas was squinting at him, looking for some sign of the man he'd used to be, heated his body. Infuriated him. Made him entertain images of Cas lying beneath him, broken and bloody, overlapped with images of him naked and gasping. He clenched his jaw, unable to stop the guttural sound that escaped his throat.

               "Dean?" Cas stepped closer, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

               Dean glanced at the hand on him, letting his eyes travel along the length of Cas' arm and back up to his face, lingering on his lips. He wanted to taste them. If he was going to die and tear the world down around him, he wanted to at least experience that. Just once.

               He reached up and grasped Cas' hair, tugging his head back with a rough jerk. He blocked the reflexive attack with his other hand, grasping Cas' wrist and waiting for him to realize he wasn't attacking. Not exactly. He drew in a slow breath and let his fingers ghost along the exposed throat, feeling the steady pulse beneath the flesh.

               "Dean..."

               "Cas." His voice was rough around the edges and there may have even been a hint of a plea in there. He looked into deep blue eyes as his fingers slid up, his thumb reaching Cas' lower lip and sliding against it. He felt the air swirling around his fingers as Cas sucked in a breath and felt something inside him finally give. His body pressed into the lean form of the angel as he covered Cas' mouth with his own, another guttural, animalistic sound escaping him as he took advantage of the parted lips and thrust his tongue past them, tasting and claiming.

               He wasn't sure how they got to the bed, but he pinned Cas beneath him when they did, grinding their hips together with a hiss. He ripped the buttons off the angel's shirt as he tore it open with one hand, splaying his hand against the flesh beneath, feeling the hard muscles twitching from his touch. "Cas..."

               Dean lowered his head to Cas' chest, tasting heated flesh and breathing in the hint of ozone that seemed to surround the angel. The scent of pure, raw energy contained in far too small a vessel. His hands worked Cas' jeans open and tugged them down, sitting back to take in the sight of a half-naked angel stretched out beneath him.

               For a moment, he felt more like himself, his old self, than he had in years, lost in the blue eyes of an angel who would, who _had_ , given... everything for him. He stripped off his own shirts, tossing them to the floor and stretching out over Cas again, feeling an almost boyish grin tugging at his lips. The warmth he felt when Cas smiled back at him made him wonder why he hadn't done this before.

               He captured those fascinating lips with his own again, grazing them with his teeth. Thoughts of foreplay vanished as he felt fingers on the side of his face and the Mark reasserted itself. It wouldn't be placated so easily. He growled and bit down on Cas' lip, tasting blood as he grasped the angel's wrist in a bruising grip and pinned it beside his head. He pulled back long enough to retrieve a bottle of Gun Oil from his pack, his eyes raking over bared flesh again, unable to get enough when he knew it would likely be the only time he'd see Cas like this.

               The bottle opened with a pop and he poured a generous amount of the oil onto his fingers. He smirked as Cas' eyes followed his hand as he pushed his own jeans down and grasped himself, smearing the oil over his arousal. He gave a few quick pumps before adding more oil, snapping the bottle closed and tossing it aside as he pressed a finger into the angel.

               One finger, then two, then three added in quick succession, making it clear he wasn't able to be gentle. Cas jerked beneath him, gritting his teeth with a strangled groan that went straight to Dean's dick. He pulled his hand away and grasped Cas' hips. "Ready?" It was the only warning he gave, but he waited for the nod, staring at Cas when he licked his lips. Then he was pushing in deep, sliding in with one quick thrust and groaning as Cas arched with a gasp and fisted his hands in the covers.

               "Dean - Dean!"

               "Shit, Cas!" Dean gasped as the tight, slick heat enveloped him, clenched around him in a way that drove him insane. His fingers dug into Cas' hips and he spared a moment to hope the room didn't echo as badly as the hall as he proceeded to pound into the angel, ignoring the abrasions forming from the coarse material of their jeans.

               The bed slammed into the wall, over and over, punctuated by the sharp, rough cries from both of them that grew louder and more frequent until Cas tangled both hands in Dean's hair and pulled him down for a fierce kiss. He felt the sting in his lip as teeth broke skin and growled in approval, the pain driving him to thrust harder. His fingers found Cas' dick with several rapid strokes, and he was rewarded for the effort as Cas howled against his lips and shuddered, coating his fingers in hot, sticky cum. He ignored the mess and slid both his own hands into Cas' hair, deepening the kiss as he shouted with his own release.

               Dean's forehead landed against Cas' as he recovered, sucking in deep breaths as his hips continued shifting with the aftereffects of an amazing orgasm.

               "Dean-"

               "Don't." Dean kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look at Cas. He didn't want to see the judgment or disappointment he was sure would be there for giving in to such desires.

               Cas sighed and tried again. "Dean."

               "I said don't, Cas," Dean said, voice hoarse with strain. He started to pull back and growled as arms wrapped around him and kept him in place. He stilled in surprise as he felt the feather-light touch of lips against his closed eyes.

               "Thank you, Dean."

               Dean cracked an eye open to look at the angel. "What?"

               Cas tilted his head with a furrow of his brows. "Is... that not an acceptable reaction?"

               The laugh came unexpectedly and Dean didn't fight it though it lasted only a moment. "No, that's... just not what I expected." He shifted and all but collapsed next to Cas, keeping a hand on the angel's hip, absently rubbing against the faint bruises. "Does that mean you'd want to do it again?"

               Cas touched his hair, finding the mess left there with a look that suggested annoyance before he let his fingers rest on top of Dean's on his hip. "If you don't do that again..."

               Dean smirked though it faded quickly. "No promises." He watched Cas and relaxed when he saw the angel understood the unspoken words behind it. There could be no promises of anything between them. They both knew the Mark would win sooner or later. Sooner, he was sure. Whatever this was... it didn't have a chance of lasting no matter how much they might want it to.

               Cas nodded, squeezing Dean's fingers. "No promises."


End file.
